


My Musings While Watching You Sleep

by AbschaumNo1



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Memories, Watching Someone Sleep
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-16
Updated: 2013-05-16
Packaged: 2017-12-12 01:37:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/805632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AbschaumNo1/pseuds/AbschaumNo1
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Enjolras watches Grantaire sleep in the morning he has to think back to their beginnings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Musings While Watching You Sleep

I rarely get more than four or five hours of sleep these days. When I get home from work there’s more work waiting for me and when I get to sleep there’s barely enough time to get the sleep I’d need to be rested. I feel exhausted most of the time, but when I wake up in the morning, lips dry and breath stale, my hair a mess, and see you still sleeping peacefully next to me, then I remember that every minute of it is worth it. The mess of black curls on your head sticking out from beneath the sheets is the only thing that makes me want to get out of bed and stay in there at the same time.

A lot of people accuse me of being too engrossed in my work, of not knowing when to stop or how to wind down, but that’s not entirely true. I know very well how to have fun, and how to relax. After all, I’m not a machine, but a human being. But I _have_ to work this much. I have to deprive myself of sleep, because I have a dream, and to achieve it I have to do this. And believe it or not, you are very much a part of it. I do a lot, if not all of this for you, to be able to give you (and us) the kind of life I want us to be able to live. I know what you dream of and that’s the reason why I work so hard.

I wish there was a different way. I wish I could spend more time with you, but I have to sacrifice it now so I can have it later.

Some mornings when I watch you sleeping I think of what a great person you actually are. You stay, when a lot of people would already have given up. You don’t leave, even though I could certainly understand if you would.

I still remember how things were shortly after we met. Someone had brought you along to a meeting, I guess, it was Courfeyrac, and you sat there in the back, nursing a bottle of wine. Your lips curled slightly, mocking me as you listened with a look in your eyes that I didn’t understand back then. When you commented it was only to tell me that I was fundamentally wrong, that I was a dreamer, that I could never change anything. I asked you if you didn’t believe in change. You said you didn’t believe in anything.

For some reason that I only understand now, no, that I feel I only begin to understand, you came to the next meeting. And to all meetings ever since. We established a sort of routine. You piped in with cynic comments whenever you could, mocked what I said, made faults in my arguments clear by exploiting them as much as you could. And I argued back, allowed myself to get agitated by you.

At the same time you wormed your way into the group of our friends. Before I even realised it you were drinking buddies with Bahorel and Feuilly; had got in a conversation about art and literature with Jehan, sketching him while he recited one of his poems for you and presenting the result to him at the end; you had laughed at Bossuet’s tendency for misfortune before helping him up and handing him a clean t-shirt that you had in your bag for some reason; and you had managed to help Combeferre calm down Joly, something no one had expected at the time and none of you talked about. And I didn't realise it until you managed to get yourself into the hospital because you had drunk too much.

Marius had already joined us at that point, and it had been you who brought him back after what everyone only referred to as the "Three Word"-incident. It had been you who led him into the room the first time after it, naming him "our resident puppy" and stating that you really hoped we wouldn't kick him anymore, and while Courfeyrac always was closest to him you were second probably only because you didn't live with him. That evening he called to let us know what had happened to you and I realised that you really had become part of our little family when I drove the car to the hospital, with Joly, Bossuet and Bahorel cramped in the backseat. We waited there until we knew that you were better and Marius and I stayed until the next morning.

Realising that you had become a part of our family had also meant that I realised that you were a friend. That was what made me stay that night, even though Marius said he had it covered, because puppy or not, he was quite able as long as he didn't dream too much, and even though I had courses in the morning, I stayed because you were a friend and it looked like you needed my help. We brought you home and Feuilly stayed with you while we headed for our classes.

After that I realised the drinking. It was not the fact that you drunk, you had been doing that from the start. As I said, when you attended the first meeting you had your hand tightly wrapped around a bottle of wine, and at every meeting since there had been alcohol close to you, the bottle always empty by the time we were finished. What I hadn't realised, what nobody seemed to have truly realised, was that had become worse. No one had realised that you had begun to drink more. It had been on a few occasions only, nothing that any of us would find out of the ordinary, and apparently it had been such an "occasion" that had brought you to the hospital. It was nothing major that time, just too much to drink, nothing that couldn't be solved by pumping out your stomach and a good night of (monitored) rest to restore your energy. But I felt more aware of it after that. I realised that you drank more and more, that it wasn't just occasional anymore. When we could we tried to stop you before it became too much. When we managed we cut you off as soon as possible. But it wasn't always possible and that made me afraid.

You lived on your own back then, close to the cafe we frequented, and while we all hung around each other most of the time, it wasn't always. You had enough chances to drink on your own. And the problem was that you took them. You tried to hide it from us in the beginning, but we picked up on it, and soon you didn't try anymore.

It was around that time that I asked you again if you really believed in nothing. This time your answer was different. This time you told me you believed in me.

I didn't quite grasp the full meaning of it for some time. In fact, I didn't quite grasp the full meaning of it until it was me who got hospitalised.

It was a dumb accident of the sorts we are used to by Bossuet, certainly not something that usually happened to me. But I had been knocked out and had an almost torn ligament. You were there when I woke up, and you looked pale, frightened. I could even see your hands shaking. I wasn't sure why. I wasn't even sure why you were there, but you smiled at me tiredly and said that it was good to see me. I remember smiling back and asking how long I was out. It hadn't been long, but there was that look in your eyes and after a moment of silence you told me that you had worried for me. I was surprised back then, even though I wonder now why. When I look back now I can see why you were worried; when I look back now I see it with the knowledge that you already loved me. But as I didn't know that back then I was surprised. I remember raising an eyebrow and asking you why, and you getting that mocking expression and telling me something about how of course mortals would worry when something happens to a god walking amongst them. You had said that before. That I was a god, I mean. Your nickname for me had been Apollo for a long time. In that moment you tried to hide the truth in your words behind a mocking tone, but for some reason I picked up on it this time. I replied softly that you definitely would do that, but you still tried to hide behind mocking. I still don't know why but somehow that moment made it abundantly clear to me that there was more to your behaviour than just mocking and trying to agitate me. It became clear to me then that I wanted it to be more.

You stayed with me until they let me go home. Later on Combeferre would tell me that it had been you who found me and called the ambulance. But our conversation didn't really change much. Of course I was aware that there was  _something_. And of course I was aware that there was as much of me wanting it to be there involved in my knowledge as there was actual evidence. Or at least that’s what I thought. You didn’t act any different, you still questioned my argumentations, and you still acted like the cynic I knew you as. You still infuriated me and I still couldn't hold myself back. I continued to get angry at you because I still couldn't believe that someone like you was actually possible. I didn't mean to, not really, because I knew it would send the wrong signal. I didn't want you to think that I hated you. But I couldn't stop myself. You hit a nerve; in more than one way. The difference was that I watched you now, whenever I could, and that I paid attention to what you did. I couldn't even do anything against it; it was as if my eyes were drawn to you. I realised that it wasn't that different for you. I caught you staring at me during conversations, or your body angled towards me, only your head turned to acknowledge the person you were talking to.  Sometimes I talked only to you. I felt that if I managed to convince you of something then I would also be able to convince you that I didn't hate you, that I loved you. It didn't work most of the time. However, there was one time when I talked and we held each other's gazes. I looked right into your eyes while I talked and tried to put all I could behind it. I sensed, rather than seeing you swallow, but somehow I knew it happened, and there was something in your eyes. When I finished my point you said nothing, I had stunned you into silence.

The next day I actually called you and asked you to meet me. You didn't seem yourself and I almost feared that you were drunk already. But when you met me I realised that you were actually sober. You were shocked, but sober. Your hands were shaking but you didn't get alcohol. Instead you stuck to soda. It surprised me, and it almost made me reconsider, but I had never been one to step back from a decision and so I began to talk. My eyes didn't leave your face once when I told you why I had wanted to talk to you. I did my best to put everything into it that I could, to try to convince you of what I had to say. If I couldn’t convince you of this what sense would there be in convincing other people to make the world a better place? What sense was there when I couldn’t even convince one man of my feelings for him? At that point I had already realised that I wanted to do it for you; that it would only truly matter if I changed the world for you.

When I finished you were silent for a long moment and I almost feared that words had failed me the one time when it was most important. I was more nervous than I had ever been before. It was a new feeling, a feeling I wasn’t sure I liked. But before I could get too worked up you spoke, voice hearse, and you only said one word: “Apollo”. You cleared your throat and said it again. And then you only stared at me in stunned silence, before the words spilled out of your mouth and you told me that I couldn’t mean it, that it wasn’t possible for me to feel the way I did and still do in a way, even though I feel we have transcended that first stage and settled into something at once less and more. You told me that you were too broken; that you didn’t want to be one of my causes; that it wouldn’t work. I have to admit that I almost despaired at that moment; that I had the small sensation of disappointment; that for one moment I thought I could understand you. But I also admit something Combeferre had said to me earlier that day. It was simple, really, nothing I should have had to think about, but that was what made it so difficult. You see, Combeferre had told me to listen to my gut feeling, to my heart, and that was something I did neither easily, nor often. But somehow you made it easy for me to behave unlike myself. Somehow you were the one who made me forego my usual way of behaving. And so I leaned forward and before you could go on I simply shut you up by kissing you.

It worked, and when I pulled back your eyes were big and all you could say was “You mean it”. I remember raising an eyebrow and asking you if you had ever seen me like this without meaning it. You laughed and told me that I seemed to mean everything I said; that you didn’t think I ever used words to express something I didn’t mean. I asked why you wouldn’t believe me then, and the only reason you could give me was that it was you. I told you how I thought that was the worst reason I could think of and you laughed; told me that it should be reason enough. I said that it wasn’t for me; that you were reason enough to do this. I leaned forward again; eyes steady on yours, one hand hovering near your neck. I asked you softly if you permitted it, and you said there was nothing you could deny me. But before you could finish calling me Apollo again I had already pulled you close to kiss you again.

It has not always been easy since then. It wouldn’t have been right if it always went easy. But over time we found our way around each other; grew so familiar with one another that it became natural. We’ve come a long way to where we are now, and I hope we will continue on it until the road reaches its end. And I really hope that it will change soon and that it will be easier to go for us.

When I watch you sleep I like to think back to our beginnings, and our way together, and the more I think about it the more I want to make the world a better place. Because I want it to be a good place for us to live in, and I want it to be a good place to build a future with you. You can be sure that I will build a future with you. Even if I don’t succeed, I will always stay with you. You are my opposite in so many ways and yet you are my home. Only when I’m with you I’m truly happy. All the work I do right now is to ensure that I can be with you, lie in your arms and know that I don’t have to worry. I don’t want us to have to worry about anything.

And so I look at you in the morning, smile and kiss your head before I get up and get ready for the day. Another day away from you to work for our future together.


End file.
